


Halfway between where I've been and where I'm going.

by mingog



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Inspired by Anastasia (1997), Kinda, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, also kinda - Freeform, if you've heard the finale of the broadway musical you'll get it, look i say that but this is actually inspired by the broadway musical and not by the movie, maybe? i guess there's some of that, same for changjin, there's also woochan but it's not big, this is inspired by a very specific pic of jisung
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-05 00:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17908556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mingog/pseuds/mingog
Summary: Screaming was suddenly heard all over the place. Loud crashes, guns shooting and people running to hide. The castle was slowly falling apart and the beautiful sky of Saint Petersburg looked red. Everything was red.That night became a blur.-Minho had wanted to leave Petersburg his whole life and when he saw a boy asking for a way to go to Paris, he got his chance to finally do it.





	1. Things my heart used to know.

**Author's Note:**

> hey, as i mentioned in the tags, this is mostly based off the broadway musical of Anastasia. it's truly a masterpiece in my opinion and i really felt like i needed to write this.  
> this is kinda my first fic ever and i haven't written in a while (and i've never written a long story in english, oof) so i hope it isn't terrible and that you like it.

_St. Petersburg, 1906._

 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying the ball, he truly was. He had seen so many wonderful people, so different from the ones who were usually around him. It had snowed earlier that day so the colors in the sky of Saint Petersburg were the most stunning and unique shades he had ever seen and everyone was looking at him and his family. Praising them. So, yes, he was enjoying the ball and everything happening during it. But then Changbin grabbed him by the arm and made him follow right behind him so they could hide from the people watching them.

“You do understand why we’re here today, right?”, Changbin was frowning and looking as serious as a ten year old could look. He didn’t let go of his brother’s hand, as if holding him was the most important thing in the universe.

Jisung was confused. He only knew they were celebrating, though he wasn’t sure what. He was so absorbed in the colors of the city and its people, that he didn’t stop to think the reason behind the beautiful party.

“I’m leaving tonight”, his older brother abruptly interrupted his train of thought with a tone that was too melancholic for a child.

“What do you mean you’re leaving to-“.

“To Paris!”, Jisung immediately closed his mouth.

He knew what Paris meant. He fully understood the implications of Changbin leaving and it made him want to cry.

His parents knew that they needed connections in different parts of the world so they could keep Russia strong and stable for their people, so when Changbin and Hyunjin met and immediately seemed to have a strong friendship, they decided that engaging their son with the other boy to create a political bond with France was the perfect idea. Changbin leaving for Paris, though, meant that not only would Jisung lose his brother, but also that he would lose his best friend.

“Why must you leave, Binnie?”, Jisung held Changbin’s hand so tight that the older couldn’t feel it.

Changbin sighed and wrapped his little brother in his arms, petting his hair and not caring about how neatly the maids had styled it for the event.

“You know I’m meant to be with him, it’s part of the arrangement”, Jisung separated from his brother and frowned, with determination in his eyes.

“Fine, but why can’t you take me to Paris with you?”

“Father said you’re not ready to leave, but you always have to know that wherever I go, you will always be with me. I got you something”, he took something from the pocket in his jacket.

Originally, Changbin had asked their mother for the music box as a child because of his constant nightmares that only seemed to be getting worse as the years passed. The only way their parents could soothe him at night was by singing that specific lullaby until he slowly started to let the tiredness win and could finally rest, at some point, when he was five and Jisung was four, he decided he didn’t want to wake up his parents at night because he was scared and told his mom he wanted a music box that played the lullaby for Christmas, and of course she complied, she only wanted to make her son happy.

“Wait, is that…?”, the youngest brother’s eyes became big in surprise.

Jisung had always been easily scared and Changbin will forever remember when his brother had come running to his room crying uncontrollably and even though before that night the princes used to fight all time, when the oldest brother saw Jisung looking so small and frightened because of some nightmare, he decided it was his job to be forever by his side, no matter what.

He showed Jisung the music box, taught him the lullaby and told him he could always trust him with anything. That’s when they stopped fighting and because the best friends everyone in the palace knew they were.

“Our lullaby”, Changbin nodded with a small smile. “When you play it, think of me and how much I love you. You will always be my brother and best friend, Sungie.”

Jisung’s eyes were filled with tears, but he tried to hold them back as he grabbed the box and hugged Changbin. They softly sang together, only sharing this moment with one another.

_On the wind, ‘cross the sea_

_hear this song and remember_

_soon you’ll be, home with me_

_Once Upon a December…_

Screaming was suddenly heard all over the place. Loud crashes, guns shooting and people running to hide. The castle was slowly falling apart and the beautiful sky of St. Petersburg looked red. Everything was red.

There isn’t much to remember about the night. It became a blur and the people who did have memories about it, tried to erase them anyway.

When Changbin noticed what was happening he grabbed Jisung’s hand and ran as fast as he could towards the train station. He knew what his father had said about Jisung going to Paris with him, but at this point, with this situation, all that his brain could think of was protecting the smaller child with everything he had. Thankfully, the children were small enough to not be seen by any of the people fighting in the streets —or, if anyone saw them, they were compassionate enough to pretend it didn’t happen.

Their lungs were aching from all the running, Jisung was crying so much and the cold of the winter night was biting on their skin, probably making sure they would be sick for a week but Changbin didn’t give up; he couldn’t give up, not yet, not when Jisung wasn’t safe.

So, they kept running. They ran for what felt like a thousand hours for them.

At some point, it started to snow again, heavy snow that almost makes them get lost but they had each other and nothing else mattered… until they found the track of the train and their last bit of energy was suddenly so strong, they ran the fastest they could and they seemed to be lucky because in that moment the train, filled with people, passed.

It wasn’t the station, the train wouldn’t stop, so, Changbin stretched his hand to a woman’s hand who tried to catch him so she could help them get on train. It was hard and everything hurt, but Changbin finally got grasp of the lady’s hand and jumped.

It all happened too fast, it’s hard to tell how it actually went, but one could guess that Jisung just didn’t have the energy to hold on and when Changbin turned to help him get on the train, the younger brother had already fallen to the snow.

“Sungie!”, Changbin yelled as loud as he could, his voice cracking and he tried to jump off the train, but the woman who had helped him up grabbed his hand.

“It’s too late”, she sounded regretful, “if you go back, you will both freeze.

Jisung felt a sharp pain in the back of his head as he fell and he watched the train was becoming smaller as it got farther away from him. In his last bit of consciousness, he tried to reach for the music box in his pocket, but it wasn’t there.

“Binnie…”, he cried in a whisper as everything went pitch black.

 

A few days after the massacre of the Han family, the news were everywhere. Every newspaper talked about how the royal family had been murdered by the rebels, only the oldest child of the last Russian tsar, Changbin had come out of the fight safe and sound, arriving to Paris a few days later and going to live with the Hwang family so no one could hurt him again.

Changbin couldn’t believe it, though, he knew Jisung was somewhere. He was sure his brother was alive and he promised himself he would find him again someday, no matter what.

He just wished he could be there to protect Jisung.


	2. Thank goodness for the gossip!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you heard? There's a rumor in St. Petersburg!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before anything, i kept everyone's ages the same as their current ones except for chan's and woojin's, they're both around 28 in this fic for plot reasons, keep that in mind so it isn't confusing for you while reading

_Paris, 1917._

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Binnie?”

Changbin looked up from his desk to where Hyunjin was, leaning on the door to the office, and smiled gently. Hyunjin was beautiful, even with the slightly messy hair and the clothes he usually wore to sleep, Changbin couldn’t help being astonished by how stunning his fiancé was. When he noticed Changbin wasn’t answering his question, Hyunjin raised an eyebrow and smirked, while walking towards the desk.

“Is there anything more important that caught your attention rather than what I have to say?”, Changbin chuckled softly and Hyunjin took the seat in front of the desk.

“I’m sorry”, the older man’s side smile made Hyunjin’s heart flutter. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

Hyunjin giggled and hid his face in his hands.

“Oh my God, you’re so embarrassing”, the words came out muffled, but Changbin could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“And yet, you love me.”

That seemed to remind Hyunjin why he had woken up in the middle of the night to go to Changbin’s office. He straightened up his back and took Changbin’s left hand —the one with the golden ring that indicated their engagement—, frowning.

It had been a week ago that Hyunjin finally asked Changbin to marry him. When Changbin had gotten to Paris, ten years ago, Hyunjin’s dad decided keeping the engagement was completely useless for him if the Han family was gone and the communists had won the war, but nine year old Hyunjin didn’t agree. Changbin was his friend after all and he had nowhere else to go without his family, so, Hyunjin’s dad agreed to let Changbin live with them, but still said there was no engagement anymore.

Changbin had been scared when he arrived to Paris, he asked to go look for his younger brother but no one had believed him that Jisung had survived the night which made him upset and closed off and won the reputation of being mean and dark; Hyunjin knew better. He understood that no one should be allowed to judge the older boy because they hadn’t gone through what Changbin had gone through. He understood that he was in pain and probably felt like he was alone in the world and he decided that he didn’t want him to feel that way.

With time, Changbin started to notice how Hyunjin didn’t treat him like everyone else, he didn’t seem like Changbin intimidated him and didn’t avoid him, he was kind to everyone, he was beautiful inside and out, he had the sweetest laugh, the softest voice. At some point, it became impossible to ignore him like Changbin tried to ignore everyone else and started to open up to him in a way he believed wouldn’t happen ever again after he lost Jisung.

They became friends. They had deep conversations in the middle of the night, they looked at the stars together, they started to dream about the future and the other would always be there, they shared dumb jokes that only they understood and told each other the secrets they never would have told anyone else. They fell in love.

It was hard at first, Changbin was scared, but Hyunjin had been nothing but nice and understanding and after a while he realized loving Hyunjin was okay and that he wouldn’t get hurt.

“Changbin”, Hyunjin sighed. “I do love you. I love you more than anything and that’s why I’m worried. I want you to be sure of this plan.”

Changbin had accepted Hyunjin’s proposal without a doubt. They were going to spend their lives together. It was their plan and they both were sure of it, but Changbin’s wish had always been to find Jisung and Hyunjin was well aware of that.

“Of course I’m sure. He is my brother and I know he’s out there.”

“I know and I want you to find him, but it’s going to be hard and I don’t want you to get hurt, I know we will have Woojin’s help, but still…” Hyunjin’s gaze on Changbin was soft and understanding and the older gave him a sad smile.

“With you by my side, I know I’ll be fine”, he pressed a kiss on Hyunjin’s hand. “I will find him, luckily before our wedding, and it will all be okay, my love.”

 

 _~~St. Petersburg~~ _ _Leningrad, 1917._

The ten years that followed the night of the massacre hadn’t been good to Saint Petersburg. The rebel group that claimed they wanted freedom and equality had only brought sorrow and problems to Russia and its people. The communist movement had left people living in the streets and starving.

It was spring, but Saint Petersburg’s citizens could only feel cold, barely covered by the old clothes that were given to them by the Bolshevik army, so worn out that they were almost completely useless. Life was becoming harder each day.

Minho paid close attention to what everyone were saying on the streets while he walked towards the small illegal market hidden behind what used to be the Han family castle. He almost laughed, noticing how even though there had been an assembly in the morning in which General Park Cheol announced the change of name from Saint Petersburg to Leningrad, no one was talking about it.

“ _The revolution hears you, comrades_ ”, he had said with a tone too happy to be honest. “ _Each day we are forming a new Russia_ ”, Minho snorted and hid his face when Cheol had turned to glare at him, still smirking. “ _So, it’s been decided that what used to be the Tsar’s Saint Petersburg, will now be the people’s Leningrad!_ ”

 _Yeah, right_ , Minho didn’t buy it, _as if changing the city’s name is going to feed the people’s empty stomachs._

Minho knew the truth. He knew that the whole “we are better now” act was crap, just empty promises that they couldn’t fulfil, anyone who had lived the way Minho had his whole life would easily realize that the improvements everyone kept talking about were only making things worse for the city. There were no brighter days and whoever disagreed with Cheol was murdered instantly. The revolutionaries claimed they wanted equality and swore loyalty to the country but trusting the people around you was the biggest mistake you could make.

Minho arrived to the market.

The illegal market that had been created to exchange food and clothes was not a pretty place. Everyone was always whispering and trying to steal things, if you were smart you got to live another day, but if you weren’t, the hunger and the cold would eventually get you.

It wouldn’t be a lie to say that people’s love for gossip is what kept the Russian people alive every day and that day there was a new rumor in Saint Petersburg. The Tsar clearly hadn’t survived the revolution’s attack, but it was a not so well kept secret that his oldest son had escaped to Paris and created a new life with a rich French family.

“Turns out the youngest son, Prince Jisung, might be still alive.”

Minho frowned. That made absolutely no sense. Prince Jisung had to be dead, there was no way he survived that night.

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently, Prince Changbin is sure he’s alive and he is looking for brother. He’ll be paying a big sum to whoever brings the young prince back”, there was a pause, Minho got an idea. “But please do not repeat.”

_Hah._

Suddenly, Minho felt arms giving him a back hug and a distressed Chan calling his name. He turned around, getting ready to comfort Chan about whatever was bothering this time.

“Can you believe they’ve closed another border?” oh, maybe it was a problem for both of them. “We should’ve left this place while we still could.”

Chan’s thoughts led him to when he was eighteen. His dad had somehow managed to get his family to become close to the royals, he would lie and say he was a count, and at that point, no one ever questioned him, they would invite him and his family to fancy dinners and he flirted and fooled around with important people… or well, he did until he met who he was sure was the love of his life. A count —a real one— who wasn’t more than a few months older than him; he was also engaged. But Chan didn’t care, he fell in love fast and he wasn’t going to allow stupid titles to stop him.

At some point, the young count paid attention to him and they kept their relationship a secret. They were happy.

And then the Han family massacre ruined his life. The few royals left alive ran away to other countries and Chan realized that his lies to blend with them didn’t save him of the revolution. He was stuck in Russia.

Ten years had passed, he was a twenty-eight year old man who had lost everything that made him happy. He would do anything to go back to his old life.

“Chan, I’ve been thinking about Prince Jisung”, said Minho with a smile that clearly showed he was up to no good.

Chan was brought back to reality.

“No, Minho”, he started walking around the market. “Not you, too!”

“I haven’t said anything yet”, Minho followed Chan quickly and looked everywhere, careful that no one could hear them.

“And you won’t”, Chan stared at him. “All I’ve been hearing today is about the princes and you know I don’t like that topic.”

Minho did know, he knew Chan well, so well that he also knew that Chan was one of the most important keys for his plan.

“Sure, but hear me out”, he checked again that no one was hearing and got closer to Chan, whispering. “It’s a total mystery. No one actually knows anything about the prince.”

Chan rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“And?”

“We’ll find a boy who can play the part”, Minho smiled widely. “You have all the knowledge we need to teach him what to say.”

“Minho, this is—”

“We dress him up and take him to Paris”, Chan opened his mouth. “And before you say anything, you know I can get us the papers. Just imagine the reward his brother will pay, Chan!”

Chan thought for a second.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”, Minho wasn’t going to give up.

“Come on! We are going to create a fairytale the whole world will believe. Do you not like fairytales?”

“I guess there was once a time I did”, Chan kept walking and Minho knew he had succeeded.

Because of the new rumor, everyone was selling stuff that could belong to the royals. There were old paintings, clothes and the lamest things that had the initials of a member of the Han family.

While Minho and Chan walked, Chan explained why getting a crown and a random boy wasn’t enough to convince Prince Changbin of their lie and all the important things that they should take into consideration if they really were going to go with Minho’s plan. Minho pretended to listen until he saw something that caught his eye.

“How much for the music box?”

The man with the box in hand showed a mischievous smile and held the box tightly.

“Ah, the music box”, he put an arm around Minho while still keeping the box away from him. Minho’s face just showed annoyance. “It definitely belonged to the Han family. I could never part with it.”

“How about two cans of beans?”, Minho showed the man the can he kept inside his coat and grabbed Chan’s can.

That seemed to be more than enough. The man took the cans and left quickly, leaving the box in Minho’s hands. Minho seemed satisfied. There was no turning back now, they were totally going with the plan, even if Chan didn’t seem fully convinced yet.

It was risky, maybe more than what Minho was used to, but there was no way he was spending another year in Saint Petersburg when he had the perfect opportunity to live. His hatred for the city was too big and he was sick of it. He knew this plan required nerves of steel and a great ability to lie, but he already had those and he knew that with Chan’s help he could make his dreams possible.

Chan stared at him disapprovingly.

“With luck we won’t be shot.”

Yes, and they’d also be out of Russia, rich and they would give Saint Petersburg another gossip to talk about when they succeeded. It’d be the biggest con in history. Only they could decide if Prince Jisung was alive or not.

 

The sound of the train backfiring made him fall, frightened. Suddenly he could only see red and his eyes were filled with tears. He couldn’t breathe properly. Cheol saw and grabbed the broom that had fallen while offering his hand to the young boy.

“It was only a truck backfire, don’t worry about it”, he helped the boy up and handed him his broom, still holding his hand, Cheol looked at him with curiosity. “You’re shaking. You could come and drink some tea with—“

The boy quickly moved away from Cheol and stared at him with wide eyes. Cheol noticed how beautiful he was.

“Thank you, but no”, the words came out harsher than intended, he tried to calm down. “I can’t lose this job”, he pointed at his broom. “It’s really hard to get one these days.”

Cheol was stunned. He didn’t realize the boy was already running away to keep working. He couldn’t let him go just like that. He took a few steps forward.

“What’s your name?”

The boy turned around again. He still seemed scared, but a bit calmer. He tried to smile.

“I’m Ji”, he turned to keep working but Cheol could hear him one last time before he actually left. “Thank you, again!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me longer than expected to finish this chapter, but i hope you liked it anyway! luckily i'll be able to write more and post sooner next time.  
> 


	3. In my dreams, shadows call.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeping up my courage, foolish as it seems, at night all alone in my dreams.

To say Minho hated his luck was an understatement. Honestly, how had he come up with such a ridiculous idea? He really thought he would find a boy that could pretend to be Prince Han Jisung without it being obvious that he was an imposter, in Petersburg of all places? It was pathetic, he really felt like he lived in the worst city in the world.

“Changbin, my dear, dear brother! It’s me! Your dear old brother Jisung is back!”, the annoyingly high pitched voice and over the top mannerisms of the boy in front of them that could never pass as a Han were absolutely ridiculous.

Minho stared at the ceiling of the theatre were the auditions were being held and tried his best to stay calm.

“Just leave, Jiwoo”, he turned to look at the other boys who had auditioned and were still waiting for a response. “In fact, all of you should leave right now.”

None of them seemed to like that idea and while they left, Minho could hear some of them complain about how he had made them waste their time for nothing. One of them even claimed that if Minho weren’t so attractive, he would’ve already reported him to General Cheol. Minho let out a bitter laugh at that one.

He couldn’t understand how Chan had remained so calm and kind to everyone when all of those boys where talentless idiots that couldn’t act at all, but he did, he smiled to each of them and waved them goodbye. Minho admired him, even if he would never admit it out loud.

Finally, all of the boys were out of sight and Chan let out a frustrated sigh and plumped down on one of the theatre’s old seats. He glared at Minho. Maybe he wasn’t as calm as he had thought.

“I told you this was a bad idea”, Minho busied himself trying to open the music box and ignoring Chan’s voice who started moving around the stage of the theatre. “It’s impossible to find someone who even resembles Prince Jisung, why did you think this could work?”, he looked at Minho again. “And stop playing with that thing, you’re going to end up breaking it and I told you it’s a fake.”

Minho was not going to let Chan be right about this one. He had exchanged two cans of beans for that music box.

“It is not a fake, Chan!” Minho looked at Chan. “And I’m not giving up on this. I’d go to Siberia to find a Jisung.”

“It clearly is fake”, Chan raised an eyebrow. “Plus, you’ve never been to Siberia!”

Minho’s eyes went back to the music box and he put it inside his pocket.

“I’ve never been anywhere but here.”

Chan knew that Minho’s biggest dream was to leave Saint Petersburg. The city’s streets hadn’t been nice to him and he just needed to get away from it, start a new life and maybe finally get to be happy, to have a life that didn’t hurt.

He decided to change the subject.

“Hey, remember when we met?”, Minho tried not to smile. “You saved my life!”

The younger man groaned, he didn’t like it when Chan got into his _Minho, you’re not as bad as you pretend to be_ mode. He had a reputation to uphold and he was not going to let Chan ruin it.

“It was a rash act of kindness”, Minho shrugged with a cocky smile and Chan let out a loud laugh. “It was completely out of character!”

Chan shook his head with a big smile on his face. _This kid is so_ —

A crash and a small yelp made both Minho and Chan turn to look at the entrance of the theatre where a thin boy was trying to stand up.

He didn’t seem like someone either of them had seen around the city. His hair not that long, but it was enough to almost cover his eyes; even if he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days, his cheeks were round and Chan felt the need to squish them because of how adorable they made him look; his round eyes were big and bright under the dim light of the candles around the theatre. He has really pretty, Minho decided, if they had seen him before, they would probably remember it.

The boy stood, shaking, and frowned at the men in front of him.

“Is any of you Minho?”

Minho stood up, too, and walked towards the boy.

“That would be me.”

The boy smiled, his cheeks looked rounder.

“I need tickets to go to Paris”, he simply said and Minho laughed.

“Do you have papers?”

The boy frowned and thought for a second. He hadn’t considered that before going to Minho, that was for sure. He shook his head. He didn’t have papers which meant only one thing.

“Then I can’t help you”, Minho was too tired to deal with this. “Leave.”

The boy was shorter than him, but he stood up tall in front of him and looked like he wasn’t going to leave without a yes for an answer. He opened his mouth, but Minho interrupted whatever the boy wanted to say.

“I will pay you! I’m a hard worker”, he pleaded.

Chan chimed in.

“What do you, boy?”, he looked at Chan for a second before turning back to Minho.

“I’m a streetsweeper”, before any of them could say anything about his job, he kept talking as fast as he could. “I worked at the hospital before and then—”

“If you really want to go to Paris, there’s a canal out there, just jump in it and swim until you get there. You’ll be in Paris before you know it!”, and with that he turned and went to Chan.

The boy followed Minho closely until they both reached the stage where Chan was watching curiously. Really, how stubborn could a person be? Minho couldn’t believe this—

The boy tripped and Chan caught his arm quickly. He was shaking again and his eyes were shiny with tears, he looked at Chan with a shocked expression.

“I’ve been in this place before”, he murmured, his voice quivering and quiet like he was about to cry.

Chan lifted the boy up and he smiled warmly at him, indicating Minho to give him a chair so the boy could sit and breathe. Minho glared at Chan annoyed but still put a chair down on the stage and the shorter boy sat down, breathing heavily. His face was pale.

Chan immediately got protective of the smaller boy. He looked so fragile and soft, so scared and if he had been to that place before…

“This was the private theatre of what used to be the Yusupov Palace!”, Chan held the boy’s smile and rubbed his back slowly to help him calm down. He turned his sight towards Minho. “Don’t just stay there! Bring him a glass of water.”

“But—”, Minho tried to reply.

“And some of that cheese you kept trying to hide from me.”

Minho walked away while Chan tried to soothe the boy and help him try to breathe. Slowly, his face started to get its color back and he directed his shiny eyes to the man in front of him, trying to give him a small smile. Chan thought he almost looked familiar for a second.

“Thank you, sir”, he said gently, “You seem like a gentleman, not like your friend.”

Chan snorted, remembering the time when everyone in the court would call him compliments and talk to him the way the boy just had, how everyone would fall for his smiles and kind words and truly believe he was the most charming gentleman out there. It had been so long since he hadn’t heard that word, especially to describe him.

He smiled warmly at the boy. He was aware that Minho wasn’t the nicest person in the world, but he had his reasons. He was good.

“I’m sorry about my friend”, he shrugged. “Life hasn’t really been good to him”, he thought for a second. “And we were hoping you would be someone else. Someone who might not even exist.”

The boy huffed.

“Life hasn’t been good to anyone in this place”, he looked up when Minho came back. Surprisingly enough, he had brought the cheese he so greedily hid even from Chan. He grabbed the glass of water and the cheese happily. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing”, the oldest man said lightly. “Call me Chan, by the way.”

The short boy devoured the piece of food and drank the water in a second. He probably hadn’t eaten in a while because when he finished, he seemed to have brighten up a little bit.

He handed the glass to Chan and got up looking like he was about to say something. Minho decided to question him a little bit.

“So, who are you running from?”

The boy stared at Minho for a few seconds, slightly confused, and then he realized. Of course. Paris.

“More like… where am I running to”, he smiled a little bit. “Someone is waiting for me in Paris.”

Sure, but that made no sense at all. Who would actually be waiting for a thin and starving streetsweeper? And in Paris of all places! That boy was most definitely insane if he thought that dumb story would get him anywhere. Minho didn’t buy it.

Chan had always been more of an idealist, thought, and he apparently had a lot more hope on the boy than Minho did.

“Yeah?”, he said, very interested in whatever the boy had to say. “And tell me, what’s your name, kid?”

He thought for a second.

“I—“, he thought again. “I don’t know.”

Minho gave him an incredulous look.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

So, the boy started to tell them about the day he was found.

_St. Petersburg, 1906._

It had been a cold and frightening week and everyone in the hospital had been going insane. There were so many patients that had been waiting to have their injuries attended from the fight a few days ago and there weren’t nearly enough people who worked at the hospital to help all of them.

The first thing the nine year old boy saw when he opened his eyes was the heavy snow hitting the windows of the room he was in. It was freezing and the thin sheets covering his body didn’t stop him from shaking because of the cold.

He looked around him, trying to see if he could recognize anything in the hospital room, but he couldn’t. His mind was completely blank. He had no idea how he got there or why every move he made hurt so much.

“But if anyone from Bolshevik army finds out, they’ll kill us”, he heard a hushed voice close to the bed where he was laying down.

“We can’t let them do anything to him”, another voice whispered. “He’s a kid.”

The boy stared at the nurses and tried to hear them talk until one of them, who looks old and tired, saw him awake and grabbed the other nurse’s arm, who looked like she was around her twenties but had deep eyebags under her eyes, to let her now that the boy was listening. They walked towards him and he felt more scared each second.

The youngest one of the nurses sat on a chair next to the boy’s bed and smiled kindly at him. It didn’t help him feel more at ease. He was terrified.

“Hi, sweetie”, her voice was soft and velvety, the boy noticed, and she had a notebook in her hand, like she was ready to write down everything he said. She probably was.

“Hi”, he couldn’t help the tremble in his voice and he closed his eyes for a second while we tried to sit down so he could get a better view of the nurse.

He didn’t know why, but he heard a strong voice in his head telling him that stuttering was never right. He didn’t recognize the voice, but it brought tears to his eyes.

The nurse eyed him curiously.

“What’s your name?”, she asked kindly.

“Ji—“, he tried thinking but that was as much as could come to mind, no matter how hard he tried to remember. The nurse frowned and stopped writing on her worn-out notebook “I—”

“Just Ji?”, the older nurse chimed in, visibly curious.

Tears started streaming down his face. He tried to dive inside his memories, but his mind couldn’t recall a name or anything useful at all. The youngest nurse rubbed circles in the kid’s back, trying to give him comfort.

He felt so frustrated.

“I can’t—“, he sobbed. “I can’t remember”, the nurse shushed him and smiled sadly.

“It’s better that way, Ji”, he didn’t understand what she meant but he nodded quietly.

 

_Leningrad,1917._

Minho smiled at the story. It was perfect for their plan.

“They took care of me for a few days until I was healthy enough to be on my own”, Ji continued. “They gave me a hat, an old coat and I was in the streets, looking for a way to eat and survive.”

Chan nodded, he understood how hard it was to wake up and have nothing, but the boy had been so young and innocent, he didn’t want to imagine how much harder it had been for him.

He looked at Minho. Maybe he and Ji weren’t so different from each other; both had been left alone at such a young age, almost completely hopeless in the world they lived in.

“So, you have no idea of who you are?”, he decided to ask when it seemed like Ji had nothing else to say.

He shook his head.

“Amnesia, they said”, he shrugged. “Sometimes, though, I get flashes of things I’d like to imagine are memories, but nothing too big or anything, so I’m still pretty much clueless”, he seemed nostalgic and smiled before talking again. “Except for one thing.”

“Paris”, Minho guessed.

Ji smiled, seeing how even though Minho seemed to have no interest in him and pretended not to listen to the story or believe it at all, he had payed enough attention.

“I’ve dreamed so many times of this voice telling me he would meet me again in Paris”, he nodded. “Maybe I’m being too hopeful, but I believe it means something”, his hand went through his hair, trying to take it away from his eyes. Minho saw how his eyes closed for a few seconds and how he sighed. “I just want to know who I am.”

He knew no one could truly understand what it was like to have no idea of who you are or what was your life. His dreams were filled of frightening images; he saw a red sky and gun shots and screaming could be heard, but the city of lights he dreamed of was so beautiful, and he wanted to know more about it.

Ji had lived under shadows and fought to stay alive for so long, but he was ready to take a chance and see if the little faith he had kept in his heart his whole life was worth something.

Chan and Minho shared a look for a moment, like they were communicating with each other, but no words were exchanged. Minho grinned.

“I think we all will be able to help each other here, Ji”, he said cheerful, with a cat-like smile.

 

Cheol stared at the complaint he had received. He knew about the rumor of Prince Changbin searching for his brother, but he didn’t think anyone in the city was dumb enough to do something about it.

There was one detail that he didn’t like about this complaint, he eyed the member of the army in front of him.

“Find a streetsweeper, his name is Ji, and bring him to me.”

Rumors were the worst.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed that!  
> if you have any questions or anything to say, i'd appreciate the comments.  
> feel free to talk to me on twitter @minsooe or ask me anything on curious cat https://curiouscat.me/minsooe


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